


This Thing Between Us

by beingtogether



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-12-08 05:24:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beingtogether/pseuds/beingtogether
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not like she knew right away she was falling for her friend. By the time she realized how deep she really was, it was too late. Quinn was in a relationship. Quinn was engaged. Quinn was married.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Santana wakes to the sound of Quinn quietly gathering her scattered belongings in the midst of getting re-dressed. She sits up, grabs Quinn’s hand, and pulls her back onto the bed into a warm embrace.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she whispers into Quinn’s ear. Her voice is still rough from sleep and Santana can hear Quinn’s sharp intake of breath. She smirks in quiet victory.

“It’s almost 7. I have to get going if I’m going to make it home in time.” Quinn moves to try and resume getting dressed but Santana doesn’t let her get far. She wraps her arms tighter around Quinn from behind.

She kisses her neck up to her ear, trying to sneakily undo the buttons on Quinn’s shirt. “Or you could stay a little while longer?”

“I can’t,” Quinn sighs. “You know I can’t.” But she does nothing to push Santana’s hands away. Santana takes this as a good sign.

“Oh, but you can.” Her hands reach inside Quinn’s now open shirt, running her palms up her stomach before stopping below her breasts. “You’re allowed to be late once in a while. Tell him you got caught up at the office.” Her hands are cupping Quinn’s breasts now, gently massaging them before pinching a nipple.

Quinn’s breathing has gotten heavier and Santana knows her resolve is close to breaking, so she licks a line up Quinn’s neck before kissing the sensitive spot behind her ear. Quinn’s eyes slip shut and she lets out a quiet moan. Santana gives herself an internal high-five before moving off the bed and kneeling in front of Quinn. She stares up into hazel eyes while slowly moving her hands up Quinn’s thighs. She moves to pull off the woman’s underwear when the moment in interrupted by a phone ringing in the background.

“Ignore it,” Santana says quickly, but Quinn’s already up and off the bed, searching through her purse for her phone. The look in her eyes is almost apologetic before she turns her back and takes the call.

Santana sighs in defeat before gathering her clothes that have been haphazardly thrown around the hotel room. She tries to listen in on the hushed conversation while attempting to ignore the misplaced feeling of betrayal. She knows she has no right to feel this way, but she can’t help it. Every time Quinn walks out on her and into  _his_  arms, Santana has to stop herself from either drinking herself into a stupor or going out and fucking the first blonde woman she meets. Sometimes both.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. This whole friends-with-benefits deal was supposed to be simple and fun. There weren’t supposed to be any feelings involved. The arrangement had been going on for years; ever since the Valentine’s Day wedding fiasco. They even agreed that if either one of them had started wanting more from the other, they’d stop. Maybe even have a rational discussion about it. They’d agreed that their friendship was too important to ruin over silly notions of romance.

Santana wants to laugh about it now. She wants to laugh at how naive they were. Santana Lopez and Quinn Fabray discussing their feelings for each other  _to_  each other? Fucking ridiculous. And it’s not like she knew right away that she was falling for her friend. By the time she realized how deep she really was, it was too late. Quinn was in a relationship. Quinn was engaged. Quinn was married.

After Quinn and Matthew started getting serious, Santana told herself to stay away. But then Quinn would call her, seduction dripping from her voice and Santana could never find the strength to say no. What they were doing was fucked up, they both knew it, but neither wanted to be the one to end it. So they ignored any lingering doubts they had whenever they were with each other.

And once her own personal feelings for Quinn became more pronounced, Santana tried to ignore those too. She tried to block out whatever her heart was telling her, because anything more than what they had would never work. It’s what she tried to convince herself anyway.

But then there were moments; moments that confused and infuriated Santana whenever she allowed herself to think about them. There were moments when she’d wake up with Quinn wrapped in her arms. She’d be so satisfied and content and comfortable that she’d let herself believe that this could be an everyday occurrence. That these quiet moments they shared wouldn’t have to be stolen, but could be properly earned and enjoyed.

There were other moments as well; moments after a few rounds of intense fucking. They’d come together again, so tired but still unable to resist the call of the other’s body. Their touches would become gentle, almost loving. Their roughness would be replaced by soft caresses, their loud moans of ecstasy replaced by quiet whimpers of desire and affection. In these moments, Santana can’t look away from the beauty of an unguarded Quinn. In these moments of gentleness and vulnerability, Santana sometimes thinks she can see  _something_  beyond the lust swirling behind Quinn’s eyes. It overwhelms and scares her, but it also gives her something to hold onto; some faded semblance of hope. But as Quinn walks back out into the real world hours later, Santana has to convince herself she’s reading too much into something that isn’t actually there.

Quinn’s off the phone now and they’re both fully dressed once again. She turns to face Santana and they regard each other silently for a few moments. Santana lets her eyes linger over Quinn’s face, still amazed by her effortless beauty, even after all these years. She doesn’t want to break the silence, in a misguided attempt to prolong their time together.

Quinn returns the intensity of the gaze before moving towards Santana and kissing her so softly that she’s taken aback by the tenderness of it all. They don’t usually do this. They don’t usually kiss goodbye once their clothes are back on and they’re forced to return to their separate lives. But Quinn is holding her now and kissing her so lovingly that Santana can’t fight the emotions that are so recklessly trying to break through.

“Don’t go,” she whispers desperately against Quinn’s lips. Her eyes are closed as she holds Quinn’s face close to her own.

“I have to,” Quinn says, resting their foreheads together. “I’m going to be late.”

“Stay with me. Please.” She’s begging now. She hates that she’s begging, but she can’t fucking help it. She’s in love with her best friend and she knows she won’t be able stand seeing her walk out the door without saying  _something_.

This could ruin everything; not only their “arrangement”, but their entire friendship. But she just  _can’t take it anymore_. Quinn can’t just kiss her like that and expect her to not fall harder. She knows, now, that she needs more out of this or she needs to let go. All those moments, those infuriating moments of contentment and gentleness, have been building up to this. Santana’s terrified but she can’t keep waiting for her feelings to disappear.

Quinn interrupts her thoughts. “He’s going on a business trip,” she says lightly, taking Santana’s hands into her own. “He’ll be gone this weekend.” Quinn’s smiling, giddy at the prospect of being able to be together again so soon, but Santana’s shakes her head.

“No. No, I can’t–. That’s not what I want,” she says.

“Oh.” A look of disappointment and hurt crosses Quinn’s face. “I just thought–”

Santana is quick to cut her off, “I can’t do this anymore.” She takes a small step back before continuing. “I can’t do this...I can’t just have you for a few hours and then watch you go back to him.”

Tears are beginning to form behind her eyes, but she pushes through. “I’m in love with you, Quinn. I don’t know how or when it happened, but it’s the truth and I’ve done everything in my power to fight these goddamn feelings, but I can’t do this anymore. It hurts too much. I cherish every moment we have together. I’m so unbelievably happy when we’re together, but I die a little every time I have to see you go.”

Her tears are flowing freely now and she can’t read much of Quinn’s expression beyond the obvious shock, so she continues. “Be with me, Quinn. I know it’ll be hard at first, I know we can both be horrible bitches but that’s why it works between us. We get each other like no one else can. And yeah, we can bring out the worst in each other, but we bring out the best in each other too. Matthew doesn’t understand you like I do.” She takes a breath. “He doesn’t love you like I do.”

The name shakes Quinn out of her shocked silence. “Why are you doing this?” she questions. “Why are you telling me this  _now_?” She looks angry and Santana can feel the shame creeping through her bones. “I’m  _married_ , Santana. You don’t get to tell me how much you love me! You have no right!”

Santana almost flinches at the growing volume of Quinn’s voice, but pushes the pain aside as her own anger begins to rise up within her.

“ _I_  have no right?” she yells. “Who were you just fucking two hours ago, huh? Whose name were you screaming when you came? Who do you come to when you need to feel wanted?” At these words she can see the defeat and guilt take over Quinn’s features so she softens her voice and takes a risk. “Who do you really think about when you’re with him?”

Quinn’s shock is evident. She opens her mouth to speak but no words come out. Santana nods solemnly. It’s not an admission of love, but it’s not a denial either. She sighs and moves to sit on the bed. She’s exhausted both physically and mentally. This is not how she wanted things to happen, essentially guilting Quinn into, at least, thinking about her true feelings.

But it’s the Quinn and Santana way. They’ve never taken the easy road with each other. Always spewing out harsh truths in order to break the other down and come out on top. Before it was done in an effort to hurt the other in some way. But now, it’s just how they’ve grown to function.

Santana stifles her tears as best she can. She’s laid everything out on the table. It’s Quinn’s move. She looks at the other woman and tries to meet her gaze, but Quinn turns away, hastily wiping her eyes as she moves.

“Please. Please just say something,” Santana pleads.

Quinn visibly steels herself. She straightens her back and squares her shoulders before turning to face Santana. Her gaze, however, remains locked on the floor.

“I never meant to lead you on like this,” she says robotically, “but you can’t just tell me these things and expect me to drop everything to be with you.” She takes a deep breath and continues. “I love Matthew. He’s my husband and I made a vow to him.”

“Fine,” Santana says. Her voice is shaky, but she’s determined. “That’s fine. I can accept that. But only after you look me in the eye and tell me you’re not in love with me too.”

Quinn’s eyes widen and she meets Santana’s gaze for the first time in what feels like forever. Santana stares back determinedly, fighting against the cracks that are threatening to show just how terrified and vulnerable she really feels. She braces herself as Quinn opens her mouth to speak.

“No,” she says quietly. “I don’t have to prove anything to you and I don’t have to answer that because it doesn’t matter. Obviously we took this...whatever this is, too far.” She takes a deep breath before quietly muttering, “I have to go.”

It takes a moment for Santana to notice that Quinn is moving towards the door. She runs over and grabs Quinn’s arm before she can grip the doorknob.

“Goddamn it, Quinn. Stop being a fucking coward for once in your life! Tell me you don’t feel the same way. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me.”

Quinn takes a shaky breath before meeting her eyes. Santana’s heart falls when she sees a cool mask of indifference fall into place. She hasn’t seen this mask in years, but she knows what it means and she braces herself for the worst.

“I’m not in love with you, Santana. I never have been and I never will be. I’m sorry you feel that way about me, but I have a husband whom I love very much. You’ve been a good friend but I don’t think we should see each other until you’ve sorted your feelings out.” She says all this is a calm and measured voice. There is no passion behind her words, but she maintains eye contact throughout the entire speech, never faltering. “Now if you’ll let go of me, my husband is waiting.”

Santana chokes back a sob and lets go of Quinn’s arm. She turns away quickly as the door slams shut behind her.

This is what she asked for. She laid herself bare and demanded Quinn do the same. It wasn’t the answer she wanted, but what could she do? She couldn’t force Quinn to admit her love. But she knows, in her heart, that there is something between them. Something that goes beyond the casual fucking. Something that could be love and happiness and a clichéd white picket fence with 2.5 kids and a black Labrador they just call “dog” because they can’t decide on a name. Santana laughs bitterly at herself and her impossible fantasies, feeling so utterly and completely pathetic.

She’s alone in a hotel room, sitting on an unmade bed with a newly formed bruise that she can feel on her hip. Proof of Quinn’s existence. These things are coupled with a resounding pain in her chest and the sounds of her quiet sniffling. Proof of Quinn’s rejection and departure.

She doesn’t stick around the hotel for much longer. Only long enough to gather the rest of her belongings and book the quickest flight back to Chicago.

She’s on auto-pilot as she makes her way through the airport and onto the plane. She slips on her own mask of indifference, and fights with everything within her to not break down in the middle of a crowded airplane.

She tries to placate herself with temporary words of encouragement. “This has happened before”, she thinks. She’s professed her love once before and was shot down then, too. She eventually found the strength to get over it, and she can do it again. It is with this thought, she tells herself that she can get through this. This isn’t her first tango with heartbreak.

She ignores the fact that her heart was first broken by someone who was Quinn’s complete opposite. Someone who treated their relationship like a pit stop. Someone she never really knew at all. A realization she made when the relationship came to a final end.

Santana ignores these details and tells herself that this situation with Quinn is the same and that there is a way out of this heartbreak. It’ll take some time, but she’ll pick herself up eventually.

She hopes.


	2. Chapter 2

The next few months are tough, to say the least. Santana throws herself into her work and is probably taking on more than she can handle. She eats and breathes business meetings and contracts and projected profits. Anything to keep her mind away from replaying the last words Quinn said to her. Anything to keep herself focused on something that isn’t resounding heartbreak and emptiness.

Overworking herself probably isn’t the best coping mechanism, but it’s the only way she knows how to pull herself out of bed every morning. And that is one of the hardest parts for her. The knowledge of what it’s like to wake up next to the one she loves, yet having to get through the rest of her day alone.

She’s tried other, more “traditional”, ways of getting over a broken heart. But the nameless women she slept with only exacerbated the constant ache in her chest. They provided a temporary numbness to the pain that just increased tenfold every time she woke up next to a stranger.

Now her routine mostly consists of staying at the office until well past regular working hours, dragging herself back to her apartment, and getting drunk enough to pass out until morning. The cycle repeats itself even on some weekends.

Her work performance hasn’t suffered, however. She’s still Santana Lopez. She still gets the job done. It’s her personal life that has taken a turn for the worse. Her co-workers have obviously noticed the change in her demeanour, but have all but given up on trying to reach her. She has become an unresponsive, empty shell of a person, only speaking when absolutely necessary.

Even Rachel and Kurt seem to be slowly giving up on her. Not that she can blame them. They knew she and Quinn had “an arrangement” for most of their undergrad and graduate careers. But as far as they were concerned, it had ended the moment things started getting serious between Quinn and Matthew.

It all comes to a head three months after “the hotel incident”. She breaks down one night, and looks up Quinn’s profile on Facebook. Quinn hasn’t unfriended her, which doesn’t really say much, but Santana grasps onto it like a lifeline.

She quickly scrolls through Quinn’s timeline. It’s pretty sparse. The latest post is a couple weeks old, which isn’t unusual. Quinn has never really been the type of person to update her status every time she does something innocuous, like eat a sandwich or see the sun set. It’s one of the many things Santana loves about her.

She comes across a tagged picture of Quinn sitting at a table in an upscale restaurant, dated three weeks ago. Quinn’s looking into the camera with a shy smile. She looks happy and normal and Santana can’t help the tears that start to form. Quinn is  _so_  beautiful it hurts. She misses her so much that she loses herself. She reaches for her phone, the desire to just hear Quinn’s voice becoming unbearable. Before she can dial, the caption below the picture catches her eye.

_My beautiful wife on our anniversary. Can’t believe it’s already been a year! I love you!_

What really does her in, though, is the comment Quinn leaves in reply. It’s just a simple, “Love you too!” accompanied by a dumb heart emoticon, but Santana feels like she’s just been punched in the stomach. She drops her phone, closes her laptop, and flops facedown onto her bed.

One little emoticon should not be affecting her this much and it amazes her how far she’s fallen. She’s tired of the loneliness. She’s tired of feeling so pathetic and unhappy. She doesn’t even recognize herself in the mirror anymore. It’s at this realization that she knows it’s time to put an end to the daily parade of sadness her life has become. It’s become grossly unhealthy and she’s ruining the few relationships she has left in her life.

Clearly, Quinn is happy. Whatever Santana thought might have existed between them was obviously just wishful thinking, on her part. The faster she can accept that, the faster she can move on.

It’s a slow process, but she works at it every day. She stops buying booze and empties out any leftover bottles she has lying around. She starts exercising again, eating healthier, working to make herself feel good on the inside and out.

Eventually, she invites some of her co-workers over for dinner, in an attempt to rebuild what was lost. She even takes them up on their offers when they invite her out for some “after-work antics”, as they like to call it. She doesn’t let herself get too crazy, but Santana enjoys the time spent with her friends and colleagues, slowly gaining back the relationships she thought she destroyed.

She returns Rachel’s and Kurt’s calls but tries to avoid the topic of why she fell off the radar for three months. She gives them flimsy excuses, saying she was just tied up at work. It’s not  _really_  a lie, but she can hear their wariness through the phone. They don’t push it too much, though, which Santana is extremely grateful for.

She’s in a good place right now, slowly building herself back to who she wants to be. She isn’t ready to start dating again or anything, and honestly, that’s fine with her. She has work and friends and herself to focus on. There’s no need for her to expose herself to any more heartbreak.

And yes, the fact that she’s still in love with Quinn does play a part in this decision. No matter how hard she’s tried to stop, her love still remains constant. But she takes solace in the fact that Quinn is happy and is loved by someone who cares for her. It’s probably the best she’s ever going to get, so she takes it willingly.

Another four months pass and Santana still manages to keep herself on this healthy new road. She’s promoted at work which finally gives her the funds to move to a nicer place in a better neighbourhood. She’s surrounded by boxes and crumpled up newspapers when she gets a call from Rachel one night.

“Hey shortie. What’s up?” she greets with a smirk.

 Rachel makes an annoyed sound, but ultimately chooses to ignore the loathed nickname. “Do you know where Quinn is?” she asks.

 This immediately wipes the smirk off her face. She hasn’t spoken to Quinn in seven months. Santana even deactivated her Facebook account in order to avoid any lingering temptation. Still, the question throws her for a loop.

“N-no. Why would I?” she asks, trying to keep her voice calm. “Is there something wrong? Is she okay?” She rolls her eyes at her lack of subtlety.

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m calling you. She hasn’t been returning any of my calls,” Rachel replies.

“Well, I haven’t spoken to her in a while.” She pauses briefly before continuing. “Have you tried Matthew? I’d assume her husband would know where she is.” She mentally pats herself on the back for being able to get through those two sentences without faltering.

There’s a long silence on the other end of the line and Santana checks her phone to make sure they’re still connected. They are.

“Rachel? Are you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Okay well, you should call him.” A beat passes. “And will you let me know when you find her?”

There’s another long pause before Rachel speaks again with a quiet voice. “Do you not know what happened?”

Santana scrunches her eyebrows in confusion. “I guess not? I have been pretty busy lately. What’s up?”

“They broke up,” Rachel says slowly, as if she’s bracing herself for Santana’s response.

Santana  _thinks_ she’s sure of what she heard, but she’s hesitant to fully accept it in case it’s just her wishful thinking playing tricks on her.

“W-who broke up?”

“Quinn and Matthew,” comes the reply. “Their divorce was completely finalized two weeks ago.”

Santana’s heart is beating wildly in her chest and she holds the phone away from her face to take a few deep, calming breaths.

Quinn and Matthew broke up. Matthew and Quinn are no longer married. Quinn is single. Wait, is Quinn single? Did she leave him for someone else? Santana doesn’t know if she’d be able to take the news of Quinn leaving her husband for someone that wasn’t her, so she brings the phone back to her ear.

“When did this happen?” she asks quickly.

“About three months ago.”

This shocks Santana into yet another silence. Three months is a long time. Even if she didn’t leave Matthew for someone else, she could’ve met someone in the time between. Santana shakes her head. She’s getting ahead of herself.

“How’s she doing? Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she is. Last time I talked to her she seemed tired, but happy. Still as strong as ever, y’know?”

Santana does know. She has always admired Quinn’s resilience. Quinn had gone through a lifetime of hardships, in high school alone, and she was still able to bounce back (relatively) unscathed. It still amazes Santana when she thinks of the things Quinn has already had to deal with.

“What happened between them?” she asks next.

“I don’t really know, to be honest,” Rachel says. She sounds apologetic, almost. “She’s never gone into detail about it. All she told me was that their marriage was a mistake and that it should have never happened in the first place. Matthew tried to change her mind, of course, but you know how Quinn gets when she’s determined.”

Santana takes a deep breath before asking the next question.

“Do you know if-, I mean, was there...someone else?”

She can  _feel_  the concern radiating through the phone, but Rachel answers anyway. “No, Santana, there wasn’t anyone else.”

Santana closes her eyes and takes a moment to gather all the new information. Quinn is no longer married. She  _chose_  to end her own marriage. It was her own decision. She is single and she seems happy. Santana is still trying to process everything when Rachel cuts through her thoughts.

“Look, I won’t pretend to know exactly what happened between you two, but I’m not a complete moron. I know you guys kept  _seeing_  each other longer than you should have been.”

Santana drops her head. The shame spreading through her body prevents her from refuting the statement. “Did she tell you?”

“She didn’t have to,” Rachel says. “You two aren’t as sneaky as you think.”

Santana mutters a quiet “fuck” before asking, “Do you think Matthew knew? About me and Quinn?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Rachel replies, but Santana feels too guilty to be relieved by the answer. “He hasn’t known you as long as I have. I’ve become pretty adept at reading the hidden facets behind the Fabray/Lopez facade.” She says this with a touch of pride to her voice and Santana can’t help but roll her eyes fondly at her friend.

“Has she said anything about me?” Santana asks, trying and failing to keep the desperate hopefulness out of her voice.

“Once. She mentioned, in passing, that she was thinking of visiting you. That was a few weeks ago. It’s why I called you, actually, to see if she followed through.”

Santana doesn’t know what to make of this. “Oh, well she hasn’t. She hasn’t even contacted me. I actually haven’t spoken to her in seven months.”

She can hear Rachel gasp dramatically. “Oh my god, no wonder you’re so out of the loop.”

She scoffs and uses Rachel’s least favourite nickname in retaliation. “Shut up, little girl.”

“I told you to stop fucking calling me that!” Rachel snaps.

She laughs, but it’s cut short by a knock at her front door.

“Is someone at your door?” Rachel asks.

“Sounds like it.”

“Don’t answer it!” Rachel hisses. “It’s 10pm! It could be home invaders.”

“You’re in New York, Rach. It’s still a respectable 9 o’clock here in Chi-town.”

“Ugh, don’t call it that. And big deal! It’s only an hour difference. Crime doesn’t wait for anyone or anything,” Rachel says seriously.

Santana laughs as she makes her way to her front door. “I’m answering the door now. Get ready to call 911,” she says brightly.

“Do not take this lightly, Santana Lopez!”

The laughter dies in her throat and her world stops the moment she pulls the door open and sees who’s on the other side. A redheaded Quinn stands in front of her. There is a shy, almost nervous, smile gracing her features, and she holds a bouquet of long-stemmed roses in one hand.

They stand there in silence for what feels like forever, but Quinn eventually manages to break the silence.

“Hi,” she says with a small wave of her free hand. Santana can tell Quinn’s immediately embarrassed by the action by the way she roughly shoves her hand back into her pocket, a faint blush on her cheeks. Santana feels faint.

“Santana? Santana!” Rachel’s voice becomes louder in her ear. “Oh my god, Santana, if you don’t answer me I really will call the cops!”

The mere presence of Quinn is affecting her so greatly, she has to turn away before she can answer. “Hey Rach, I’m going to have to call you back.”

“What on earth is going on over there?”

“Quinn’s here.”

“Oh.  _Oh_. Okay then.” A pause. “Tell her to stop ignoring my calls!”

“Rachel, for fuck’s sake. I’ll call you later.” She ends the call quickly before she’s interrupted again.

After taking a few deep breaths, she’s finally able to turn back around and face Quinn. She’s still standing there, one hand deep in her pocket, the other holding onto the bouquet in a death grip, and a sheepish look on her face.

Santana clears her throat before speaking. “Hey,” is all that comes out and she mentally kicks herself. She hasn’t seen or talked to Quinn in seven months and all she can think of to say is  _hey_.

But Quinn’s smile gets bigger at the word, like she’s relieved Santana hasn’t kicked her off her property yet. She holds out the bouquet. “These are for you,” she says quickly.

Santana reaches for them, making sure their fingers don’t brush together. She she’s not if she can handle any physical contact just yet. She says a quiet thank you, and pretends to inspect the flowers so that she doesn’t have to look at the woman in front of her.

“Can I come in?” Santana’s head snaps up at the question and Quinn falters. “If you’re not too busy, I mean. Do you have c-company?” she asks looking over Santana’s shoulder.

Santana ignores the question. “Why are you here?” she asks bluntly and Quinn’s shoulders fall.

“I just...I really needed to speak you.”

“You’ve had seven months to do that, Quinn.”

“I know, and I’m  _so_  sorry it took this long. Please, can I come in? I promise won’t take up too much of your time.” She looks at Santana pleadingly before saying, “I miss y-.”

“Don’t,” Santana says firmly, cutting her off. She turns away, quickly walking back into her house. But she leaves the door open behind her as an invitation.

She makes her way into the kitchen, drops the flowers onto the counter, and pours herself a glass of water. She can hear Quinn moving behind her, but she occupies herself with finishing the drink and pouring herself another. Quinn clears her throat softly, and Santana finally turns to face her.

Neither one of them speaks. It’s too quiet. Everything is so awkward and uncomfortable, so she rolls her eyes and breaks the silence.

“What’s up with your hair?” she asks.

“Oh um, I just felt like I needed a change after...everything.” Quinn runs her fingers through her hair nervously. “Do you like it?”

“I do,” Santana says after a moment. “It’s different, but I think it suits you.”

Quinn looks relieved. “Thanks.”

There’s another long pause and Santana’s started to get annoyed.

“What do you wan-,” she starts, but is quickly cut off.

“I left him,” Quinn says simply.

Santana shrugs. “I know.”

Quinn looks taken aback, but she continues, “I didn't do it for you.”

“Then why are you-?”

“I mean, you did play a part in the decision,” Quinn says, “but, ultimately, I did for myself.”

Santana furrows her brows in confusion. “I'm glad? Good for you?” she raises her voice in question and Quinn gives her a strange look.

“Look, I don't know what I'm supposed to say here. You left your husband for reasons that, apparently, had little to do with me. So, I ask again. Why are you here?”

Quinn takes a step forward, making sure to keep Santana’s gaze locked on her own.

“I never loved him,” she says, “not really.  I realize that now. I did  _care_  about him, though, and I guess I thought that if I married him I would eventually grow to love him like I was supposed to. But you were always around to fuck things up, as usual.”

Santana wants to retort but Quinn quickly cuts her off.

“When I was with you, I'd feel so different than when I was with him. Sure, he and I had some good times together, but he never made me happy like you did. He could never make me feel as wanted and as loved like you could.” She takes another step forward and continues.

“But it wasn’t supposed to be you. How could it be? You were–you  _are_ – my best friend. I wasn’t supposed to love you like that, but I could never stop thinking about you. Even before you said...what you said, you were always on my mind in some way. And then you told me you loved me everything just started making sense.

“After I left you at the hotel I was so angry at you for so many reasons. But mostly it was because you were the one who finally made me realize what real love was supposed to look and feel like. You made me realize that I could have it all. You made me see what I truly wanted.”

Quinn had been trying her best to keep the tears at bay, but a few manage to escape at these words. Santana watches as she quickly wipes them away, her own tears have been threatening to fall, but she manages to reign them in.

Quinn looks at Santana, when she’s finished speaking, as if she’s expecting her to say something back, but Santana’s speechless. The silence stretches on between them and, eventually, Quinn’s face falls as she loses the battle against her tears.

Santana wants to be angry. She wants to yell at Quinn and throw her own words back in her face. She wants to say that Quinn has “ _no right_ ” to be saying these things  _seven_  months after the fact. She wants to tell her that it's too late, her heart is unbroken and she's better off now than she ever was.

But she can’t. She can't just turn away from the woman she loves, now that she’s finally  _finally_  looking back.

Quinn can’t hear Santana’s inner monologue, however. All she hears is silence, and all she can see is the confused, almost angry, look on Santana’s face. So she looks away and steels herself as she wipes at her tears.

“I’m sorry, Santana. For everything.” She turns to walk away and Santana has a horrific flashback to the last time something like this happened. She moves forward, grabs Quinn’s arm before she gets too far, and pulls her in close.

She can feel Quinn start to crumble in her arms the moment their lips meet. Both their tears are falling freely now and they grasp onto each other tighter, trying to get as close as they can.

Santana can taste their tears in the kiss, but she doesn't care because her heart is so full, she thinks it might explode. She doesn't care because Quinn is here. She's finally here in her arms, kissing her and loving her. It's everything and nothing like she imagined. Quinn is first to break the kiss.

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Santana,” she sobs out. “When I think about what you went through a-and how callous I was with your feelings...I'm sorry.”

"Shh, baby stop. It's okay.” She’s holding Quinn’s face in her hands, and presses their foreheads together. She kisses her lightly, just because she can.

“No, please,” Quinn says. “I have to say this.” She pulls back a little, and smiles sadly when she feels Santana wiping away her tears with her thumbs. “I’m sorry for taking so long to realize everything. And I’m sorry it took so long for me to come find you. I just had to make sure I was ready for this, for us. But I took so damn long and I know that I hurt you,” she says through the tears, “I’m so sorry.”

Santana holds her close, kissing her once more before looking into her eyes. “It’s okay,”’ she says simply but sincerely. Quinn looks like she’s about to protest, so she continues.

“Yes, it hurt. It hurt like a bitch for a long ass time. But look at me. I’m okay. I came out on the other side a better person. And do you know why?” Quinn shakes her head. “Because I know what it’s like to be alone and I know that I can survive without you.”

A confused, almost hurt, look crosses Quinn's features, so she quickly amends her statement.  
  
“I know that I  _can_  survive without you, but I also know that I don't  _want_  to. My life doesn't stop when you're not in it, but it gets so much better when you are. I've never stopped loving you, Quinn. You complete me.”  
  
There's a pause before Quinn lets out a watery laugh. “Did you really just quote Jerry Maguire at me?”

Santana frowns slightly. “I didn’t mean to. It just slipped out.”

Quinn laughs again, looking into Santana’s eyes. Santana smiles back at what she sees. The woman she loves is staring at her with hope and happiness and love shining through her features. It’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen and she can’t hold back any longer. She says the words she been waiting months,  _years_ , to say.

“I love you, Quinn Fabray.” It’s a wonderful weight off her shoulders. It’s a promise of a future together and of the exciting things to come. She feels lighter and happier than she’s ever been. But nothing can compare to the words she hears next.

“I love you too, Santana Lopez.”


End file.
